That Which We Call a Rose
by Tori Masen-Cullen
Summary: REPOST - Edward Cullen, Billionaire CEO of Cullen Corp, is out for blood. Nothing and nobody will stand in the way of his need for revenge. When his plans result in disaster and he come face to face with his past, how will Edward piece his life back together - and where does Bella fit in?
1. Chapter 1

**Hi All**

**As you can see, I haven't dropped this story, it has just been kicking my ass. The huge note book I have filled with nothing but back stories and time lines are testament to that. **

**Well this is a repost of That Which We Call a Rose. While writing the original chapters more and more ideas were coming to me. Ideas to thicken out the plot and make it a more interesting read. I made a few changes to the original and updated the chapters but it still wasn't enough and in the end the whole plot line changed so I had to start again.**

**The first few chapters with time jump but not by too much. **

**Please let me know what you think, I love to hear it.**

**This is an Edward and Bella HEA and it won't take too long for them to get together - they will meet around chapter 5 or 6. **

**Tori**

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Chapter 1 - Edward

June 2009

_She was glowing, there was no other word for it. Her short, wavy, strawberry blonde hair that framed her beautiful face, shimmered in the last rays of the evening sun as she shook with laughter._

_ I was the luckiest bastard on the planet! _

_ She was nervous about tonight, not only was she meeting my family for the first time, but we had news to share, and I had been trying to distract her with stories of my childhood antics as we travelled along the I-495, down Sunrise Highway and across to my parents estate in Southampton. _

_ The traffic lights ahead of us changed to red, and I took the opportunity to bury my fingers in her hair and pull her lips to mine. Her laughter stopped short and a small sigh sounded from the back of her throat. _

_ "I love you," I whispered against her soft pink lips. _

_ "I love you, too," she breathed, her sweet breath fanning across my face. I smiled, kissed the tip of her nose, and shifted the car back into first as the lights changed back to green._

_ "They'll love you too, you know," I reassured her. My parents had been in England for the last twelve months and as we had only been together for ten, this was the first chance for us all to get together._

_ "I hope. . .EDWARD!" Her piercing scream echoed through the confined space of the car, mere seconds before the sickening crunch of metal crushing against metal._

I shot up in bed, a sheen of cold sweat covering my body, my limbs tangled up in damp sheets and her name dying on my lips.

On instinct I glanced over at her side of the bed, hoping beyond all hope, that it was just a dream. That she would be there, the soft moonlight edging her perfect form.

Breathing out a painful sigh, I swallowed down the lump in my throat and buried my face in my hands. Of course she wasn't there, she hadn't been for over two and a half years. Scrubbing at my tear-streaked face, fighting to get control of my erratic breathing and attempting to stay above the tidal-wave of emotion that was trying to pull me under, I climbed out of bed. There was no point in attempting to get more sleep, despite the fact that it was only three thirty in the morning. An hour or two was all I seemed to be able to manage these days.

Padding into the bathroom, I flicked on the shower but left the lights off. I had no desire to see the scars that marked my face arms and torso. They weren't really visible to the naked eye any more, but I knew they were there. The sounds of her cries, the crushing of metal, the sirens, the horns, the voices. I had enough auditory reminders haunting my every living moment, I didn't need the visual ones too.

Stepping into the steaming water I braced my hands against the wall, hung my head and let the tears out. God I fucking missed her.

From the first moment that I laid eyes on her, she consumed almost every one of my waking thoughts. She was just so young, so carefree. Running through Central Park in her cut off jeans and football jersey, chasing after her wayward puppy. She was so tiny, yet her sun-kissed legs seemed to go on for miles.

She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, chin length strawberry blonde hair, big brown eyes and a smile that lit up her whole face.

It was a Sunday morning in March 2006. I was just two miles into my morning run, when the small bundle of yellow fur she called Heath, came bounding my way. _She_ followed not too far behind him, panting and clutching at her chest as she scolded the Labrador puppy that was now in my arms.

_"I'm so sorry," she told me when she had breath enough to speak, "He went running after a cat."_

I told her it was no problem, gave her my name, got hers in return and asked for a date as payment for my heroic rescue.

Heath was all I had left of her now. Unless you count the platinum and diamond engagement ring that's behind the locked door of my safe, or the hundreds of photographs that were stored on my computer and in frames around my home and in my office, or the beautiful black and white grainy image of our twelve week old child, that was still tucked safely away in it's mothers womb when she was taken from me. When _they_ were taken from me.

I wasn't coping well with the grief, but who fucking does? Two and a half years and I was still stuck somewhere between guilt and anger. Both were eating away at me, slowly taking over, like an incurable cancer that was devouring the man I once was, the man that _she_ had helped me become.

I had no fucking closure, none what-so-ever. Her parents had come and taken her body, they'd had her cremated, her ashes scattered to the wind, along her favourite beach, a week before I had woken from a drug induced coma.

The fucker who was driving the car that hit us, had fled from the scene. His car still embedded in ours, his engine still ticking over. This is were my anger was centred, where the fury and the hatred and the need for revenge burned like acid.

I'd come too fifteen days after the accident, the physical and emotional pain crippling me. I knew she was dead, I just _knew_. I didn't have to ask, didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to see or hear the tears and the sympathies that were pouring from my parents and my sister, Alice, and I will be forever indebted to Emmett, my head of security, for politely throwing them all out of my room and getting down to business.

_"Tell me," I told him quietly, knowing that Emmett McCarty, ex marine, ex secret service, and my best fucking friend, would not have just let this go. He loved her almost as much as I did._

_ "The car came back unregistered, but blood and hair samples were found on the airbag. Best I can guess is that the fucker broke his nose when it deployed," he gritted out, his barely concealed anger just bubbling below the surface, "Garrett hacked the systems for all surrounding hospitals, and fifteen people were admitted for the same on the night of the accident. Eleven of those were male."_

_ "It was definitely a man," I spat, my own anger taking over._

_ "We thought as much by the short coarse hair that was found at the scene," he nodded, "We've questioned all but two of the eleven. One is seventeen year old, Tyler Crowley and the other is twenty five year old Alec Santiago. All of the other have a valid alibi. Looking deeper, Crowley is African American, the hair samples aren't, so for now and until we can track him, my money is on Santiago."_

_ "What do we know about him?" I asked, the image of the olive skinned fucker that hit us, that killed them, flashing through my mind._

_ "Alec Santiago, twenty five year old Italian immigrant. Worked as a security guard at Volturi inc up until three weeks ago," he told me carefully. My teeth snapped together audibly as I fought the wave of nausea that rolled in my stomach. _

_ Volturi Inc had been at war with Cullen Corp for decades. Both held contacts with the government for the production of weaponry but up until six years ago the percentage split was negligible._

_ After graduating MIT at the age of nineteen with __Ph.D's in Physics, Biological Engineering, Aero and Astronautics and Business, I'd joined my Grandfather, Ed Senior, at Cullen Corp. Working with the design and production teams it wasn't long before our products blew Volturi's out of the fucking water. _

_ I was Cullen Copr's secret weapon.__ With an IQ of 235 I was classed as the most intelligent person in the world. What the world wasn't aware of was my photographic memory, my 20/10 vision or my lightening reflexes. I was a phenomenon. _

_ Within two years of me working there, Cullen Corp held the contract for new fighter jets. Two years later it was bio-weponary and WMD's . Eight months ago we started talks on their surveillance systems and smart robots._

_ "It was a hit?" I choked out, my whole world turning on it axes. _

_ "It's looks that way to me, that or a warning."_

_ I couldn't hold it in any more. Emmett just had time to push the bin under my nose before I was throwing up what ever crap they had been pumping into my stomach for the last two weeks._

Knowing that she was killed because of me, knowing that our child never had a chance to live because of what I do, tore my fucking heart out. That's where the guilt came in.

Taking a deep ragged breath, I tipped my face up to the water, letting it wash away the tears. I kept my eye's closed as I reached for my body wash, I didn't want to see hers this morning. The one she always used, that still sat on the shelf next to mine. It was there for the mornings when her scent alluded me. I didn't need it this morning, all I could see, hear and smell was _her_

After being home from the hospital for three weeks, I finally went back into the office. I had taken over as CEO from my Grandfather just over two years ago, but he had been in covering for me while I was in the hospital. I'd tried to come in the day I was discharged but he had my security detail, Emmett, Garrett and Alistair _escort _me home.

The fucking traitors worked for _me_!

There I threw myself back into work, letting that, and the need for revenge, take over my every thought, my every action. I was more determined than ever to see the Volturi go under. I was going to take them, and every other motherfucker associated with them, and rip them apart piece by piece. And when I found out who the fucker was that called the hit, I was going to have him _screaming_ for mercy _hours_ before I put a bullet between his fucking eyes.

Trying to shake off the anger that was, once again, taking over, I finished up my shower and after throwing on my shorts and t-shirt I made my way into the kitchen.

"Morning, baby," I whispered, running my finger over the picture of her that still hung on the fridge, right next to the scan picture she'd placed there, just like I had done every morning since she died.

"Heath!" I yelled, he'd not shown his face yet, he was more than likely still asleep in the corner of her empty closet. A place he had taken to sleeping since I got home from the hospital without her. Four fifteen was obviously too early for him. He didn't look too happy with me when he rounded the corner into the kitchen. "Don't look at me like that," I scolded as I poured his biscuits into his bowl. I was almost positive that if he could talk, he'd be asking me every ten minutes when his Mommy was coming home.

I wasn't hungry this morning, I very rarely was any more. But while Heath had his breakfast, I threw down a cup of coffee and grabbed his leash.

"Come on, boy," I whistled from in front of the private elevator. Knowing he was going for his morning run, Heath bounded around the corner just as the doors opened, and I clipped his leash on as we stepped in.

The ground was still covered in dew as we ran to the park. I was trying to keep my head clear. Trying not to remember the day that we met for the first time. My legs still took me down the path though. Just like every morning. Down by the field that she had been running through. I felt my throat closing in on me again and I swallowed repeatedly trying to push the emotion away.

I was also attempting to ignore Garrett as he ran a few pace's behind me. I had no fucking clue how he knew when I was up and about. But without fail he was here every morning, no matter what time I was out. We were just rounding the last bend when my phone vibrated. Without stopping, I pulled it out of my pocket. It was a text from Emmett, a _blank_ text from Emmett. I knew what that meant.

I stopped, pulling back on Heath's leash, and turned to see Garrett putting his own phone away.

"He's got the fucker," I announced quietly, Garrett nodded.

"I'll get the car," he replied as we turned and ran back to the apartment building.

Alec Santiago had signed his own death warrant the day he agreed to get behind the wheel of that car. A blank text was enough to tell us that after all this time, _this_ was his day of reckoning, no trace, no evidence to tie any of us to his disappearance – or murder if his body ever turned up.

I raced back up to my apartment, Heath in tow, and after topping up his water bowl, taking another quick shower and throwing on a black suit, I grabbed my nine millimetre out of the safe and stowed it at the small of my back.

_I_ was going to finish him. Not Emmett, not Garrett, _me! _Alec Santiago and any other fucker that was responsible for her death was going to meet the fucking devil at _my_ hands.

Garrett was waiting besides the car when I arrived in the garage. Emmett wasn't taking any more chances with my life so _this_ car, unlike the last, was damn near tank proof. The engine was chipped, security cameras were linked and the GPS was trapped within the car's own little black box.

"Ready boss?" Garrett asked as he opened the door for me.

"I'm more than fucking ready," I promised as I slid into the leather seats.

We were both quiet on the fifty minute drive from my Manhattan penthouse to the abandoned warehouse in Port Morris. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins, but my nerves were rock steady. I was ready for this, I had been ready for this for the last six months. And what better day to get rid of the fuckers that killed our baby, than two years to the day it was due to be born.

That date, June 7th 2007, has been stuck in my head from the moment she whispered it to me.

_"June 7__th__ 2007, remember that date, it's gonna be the best day ever," she whispered as she climbed into my lap. I was sprawled on the couch watching the Yankees game, the Yankees were up, 3 for 2 in the __ninth, Ming Wang was up to pitch._

_ "Why's that, baby?" I questioned pulling her against me and giving her my undivided attention._

_ "Because that's the day this little one will make his appearance, Daddy," she whispered again, placing our joint hands on her flat stomach._

_ "Really?" I asked, pulling my head back to look into her sparkling eyes. We'd only been together six months, we didn't even live together at that point, and in no way were we trying for a baby. She had told me earlier that week that she was worried, her period was late, and that wasn't normal for her. While I was shocked and somewhat apprehensive about becoming a father, I knew she was it for me. So if she was in fact pregnant, then it wouldn't be the end of the world._

_ Now though, as she sat there in my lap, her eyes shinning and her smile wide, telling me that I was going to be a Daddy. . .well, there were no words._

_ "God, I love you so much, baby," I told her quietly as I crushed her to me and pressed my lips into her silky hair._

"We're here, boss," Garrett called, pulling me out of the memory. I was too choked up again to speak, so I nodded to him and climbed out of the car. It was still early, only just gone six in the morning, but the sun was already just above the horizon, so it was fortunate for me that stepping out of the sun, and into the dimly lit warehouse, had no impact on my vision.

Emmett and Alistair were stood in the centre of the room, but I ignored them. My eyes were fixed on the fucker that was tied up on the floor, three feet away from them. It was _him_, despite his swollen right eye and busted nose, I could still recognise the fucker that had ripped my God-damn heart out. It took _everything _I had in me to stop myself from just pulling out my gun and shooting his fucking brains out.

I didn't even think about stopping though, as I crossed the distance between us and blackening his other fucking eye. He rocked backwards and Emmett stepped forward to stop him from hitting the floor. The last thing we needed was for him to crack his skull before we had any answers. But my fury was uncontrollable as I landed punch after punch and kick after kick.

"You fucking son-of-a-bitch," I yelled, my foot connecting with his ribs, time and again. All the pain, all the hatred and anger and heartbreak, of the last two and a half years came pouring out of me.

"Ed, man, calm down. You can kill the bastard when we've got answers," Emmett told me quietly as he grabbed me at the elbows and pulled me back away from him, "Think about Tiny T," I recoiled at the use of her nickname, but shrugged Emmett off and bent at the waist, my hands resting on my knees and my head hanging low. I needed to regain control, I needed to see this through, get the answers I needed, for her, for them, for me.

Taking a final deep breath, I righted myself and slowly walked back over to him.

"Start talking you fucking piece of shit," I spat, ripping the duct tape from his mouth. He didn't make a sound at first, he just glared at me, and I had to remind myself, once again, that I couldn't just kill the fucker.

"I don't got nothing to say," he choked, spitting blood out onto the floor.

"I'm not gonna ask you nicely again," I told him, my voice now calm, quiet, deadly, as I pulled the nine millimetre out from behind my back and aimed it at his right knee, "Now start fucking talking."

"It was meant to be you, you know. Not that fine piece of ass you were. . ." his words stopped short and an agonising scream left his lips as my gun went of, the bullet going straight through his knee cap. He was screaming and shouting and jerking as he tried to free his hands. _Not so cocky now are you shit-face?_

"Who called the hit?" I asked just ask calmly. He didn't answer, he was to consumed with pain. I took a sick sense of satisfaction in that, "I'll give you five fucking second to answer me before I take out your other knee cap. After that I'll introduce my box cutters to your fucking fingers, one by motherfucking one."

"I-I don't. . ."

"One. . .two. . .three," I began, aiming the gun at his other knee, "Four. . ."

"DeMarco," he yelled, Felix DeMarco."

"And where will I find Mr DeMarco?"

"He w-works at Voltui," They were his last words. I didn't need anything else. Before he could even draw another breath, I re-aimed and pulled the trigger, hitting him between the eyes.

"Clean that up," I ordered, walking back out of the warehouse and climbing into the back of the car.

I felt no remorse, not additional guilt, no shame in taking his life.

I didn't feel any better either!

I didn't bother going into the office. Instead I spent the day locked away in my apartment, attempting to drown myself in drink. I sank into the chair behind my desk and looked at _her_ smiling face, her innocent face, the guilt washed over me and I found _my_ face once again buried in my hands.

The guilt wasn't for talking his life. No, it was for what _she _would think of me now. She wouldn't recognise the man I had become. She would _hate_ this person. This cold, heartless monster, consumed with hatred and anger.

"I'm sorry, baby. God, I'm so fucking sorry," I cried, hoping to God that she could hear me from all the way up there. Heaven, a place I would never be welcomed into.

Rosalie, was already at her desk when I entered the office three days later. She had been my assistant since I had taken over Cullen Corp. two years ago. We worked well together – when we weren't trying to kill each other – both of us adopting a no bull-shit attitude, she told me what was what without the usual pointless non-information, provided results and worked her fucking ass off. Most importantly, she was trustworthy.

"Morning, boss," she smiled slightly as she glanced up from her computer screen.

"Morning," I nodded, "When you're ready we can go over today schedule."

"I'll be though in five," she told me, looking at her watch. I'd have asked her to bring coffee in with her, but I knew that I didn't have to. Rosalie was nothing if not efficient.

Nodding again, I walked into my office and closed the door. The five minute time frame that Rosalie had given me, allowed enough time for me to quickly go over a few emails and pull up a copy of todays schedule. I had a meeting with my Grandfather at three but other than that my day looked pretty clear.

Without my permission, my eyes landed on _her_ image, a picture of the two of us that had been taken in Mexico. I had surprised her with a trip for her birthday, right before we found out she was expecting. He was more than likely created while we were there.

Fighting against the threatening tears, I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. _Would this ever get any fucking easier?_

Before I could sort myself out, and being the disrespectful bitch she is ninety percent of the time, Rosalie pushed the door to my office door open without knocking. I didn't look up, I knew it was her. Nobody else would have the guts to walk in unannounced.

"Oh, shit, sorry, I'll come back," she gasped, but I shook my head and looked up. I'm sure I looked like shit, but I really didn't care.

"Your here now, so lets just get this over with," I sighed, wiping at my eyes and turning to my computer.

We spent the next thirty minutes going over my day's meetings, messages that had been left over night, and adding new appointments to my diary. There were a couple of reports that I needed completing and contract changes that I needed to have sent over to my lawyer, Jason Jenks, so between taking meeting minutes, it would be enough to keep Rosalie busy for the day.

I was surprised when Emmett turned up at two o'clock. He'd spent the last few days in his home office with Garrett, trying to dig up as much information on Felix DeMarco as he could.

"How you feeling?" He asked as he wondered into my office. I looked away from the Apple contract that I was going over – weapons were not my only line of business – and glanced at him. Emmett was fucking huge. He was a six foot five, 240lb wall of solid muscle. At thirty-eight he still had the face, body and mentality of a twenty five year old.

"Just fucking peachy," I muttered. I wasn't in the mood for small talk, "What did you find?" I asked impatiently, he wouldn't just turn up here for no reason.

Emmett sat down heavily in the seat opposite me, his eyes hardened and his jaw clenched, it wasn't very often that Emmett let his emotions get the better of him, but I could see that what he had to impart was getting the better of him.

"Felix DeMarco," he spat, "Has worked for Volturi since he graduated MIT in 1996. Aside from his employee record and a company credit card, on paper, Felix DeMarco doesn't exist."

"What the fuck does that mean?" I demanded. Emmett didn't even flinch.

"You would know him better as James Hunter."

"What the fuck?" I yelled jumping up from my seat. James Hunter had been two years above me at MIT. I'd dated his sister Kate for most of my Junior year. Kate was beautiful. Long brown hair, brown eyes and pale skin. She had been a few years older than me, but so were all of the other collage girls.

"Felix DeMarco, AKA James Hunter. Born February 2nd 1973, to Laurent Hunter and Jane Hunter," Emmett began, watching me as I paced the room. "Jane Hunter was the daughter of Aro Volturi and Sulpicia Volturi, nee DeMarco,"

"Fucking son-of-a-bitch," I yelled. I grabbed the first thing that my hand could touch, and launched it across the room. Glass shattered against the wall, and the smell of brandy saturated the air as the decanter exploded.

"Jesus, Ed," Emmett jumped up, dusting glass shared from his hair and off his clothing. Ignoring him I resumed my pacing.

"Where is he?" I spat.

"Living in Brooklyn with his wife, Kate Hunter, and his daughter Charlotte. Alistair sent a man in to confirm it's him."

"Kate Hunter?" I asked in disbelief, "His _wife?_"

"Yeah," he nodded, "Ed?"

"You've had visual on the wife?" I asked, my mind spinning with the possibilities.

"Yeah, Jake's seen her. Petit girl around five two, five three. 110 pounds, brown hair, brown eyes. Why what's going on?"

"Kate Hunter _was_ James' _sister. _I dated her for a few months back in 97. She was found raped and murdered six months after we separated,"

"Fuck,"

"I want them watched. I want to know where they go, what they do, who they see," I informed him, "You said they have a daughter?"

"Yeah, Charlotte Hunter, two years old."

"What ever happened, the kid stays out of it!" A kid complicated things. I needed time to work out what the fuck was going on, how it was all connected and how to make James Hunters death look like a fucking accident.

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**Love it? Hate it? Please let me know. I think I have put more work into this then anything I have ever written. It is mashing my head completely and I'd love to know if it is worth all of the headaches I've been getting.**

**Tori**

**x**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 Repost.**

**Some of you will have read _some_ of this chapter before - but it has changed not only POV but also most of the content so you have to read it again - sorry!**

**Don't let this POV put you off - I promise Bella will turn up soon! Kate just needed to have her say!**

**Tori**

**x**

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Chapter 2 - Kate

January 2010

"It didn't have to be this way, Katie," he whispered as he licked the side of my face. I couldn't stop myself from cringing away from him, as my stomach rolled and I fought to keep down last nights meal. The man that I had the misfortune to call husband, grabbed my battered face roughly and yacked it back to look at him, "_Don't_ pull away from me," he spat.

"I'm sorry, James," I choked out. My whole body shook as I stared into his dark, hate filled, eyes.

"You always are," he bit back, shoving my face away. Pain and dizziness took over once again as my head smashed against the wall and I gripped the edge of the sink to stop myself from falling, "I'll be back tomorrow night." His threat was clear in his voice, in the way he painfully gripped my already tender breasts. I was to expect more of the same, this wasn't over. I pushed back the sob that threatened to escape and nodded once.

Letting go, he stepped back and turned to leave the bathroom. Before he made it to the door, he turned and the back of his hand made contact with my face, sending me sprawling onto the floor.

"Say it again and it will be that last thing you fucking do. Got me?" he spat. I had no clue what it was I had said to piss him off, but I nodded regardless, there was nothing else I _could_ do, and watched gratefully as he left the room. It wasn't until I heard his car start and move out of the driveway, that I pulled myself up off the floor.

Catching my reflection in the mirror had my stomach rolling once again. The stark white room and glaring overhead lights, sapped away what colour my face possessed and only served to highlight the dark circles beneath my eyes and the purple bruises that were just now forming at my right temple and left cheek. Pulling my limp, long brown away from my face, I grabbed a cloth and dabbed gently against the gash that split across the left corner of my mouth. _How did it come to this? _I asked myself. The lifeless brown eyes that reflected back at me held no answers.

I dropped the cloth into the sink and hung my head as I let the tears flow unabated. My whole body ached as it shook with my sobs, and I knew that the removal of my nightdress would reveal the worst of this mornings happenings. Ribs that were barely healed from his last fit of temper stabbed at my sides, with each agonising breath I took, and my right wrist throbbed beneath the swelling and the blue finger marks that circled it.

I hated him. With every fibre of my being I _hated_ him. If I had somewhere to go, someone to help me, I'd have left him years ago – I'd have tried to anyway. But I had no-one, both my parents had died a long time ago – I didn't even remember them – and I was too terrified to do it alone. I had no money, no education and nowhere to hide. He'd find me, find _us –_ me and our two year old daughter, Charlotte – and I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that when he did, he'd kill me.

Wiping my tears away in disgust, I turned away from my reflection – too ashamed to face the evidence of my vulnerability – removed my nightdress and stepped into the scalding water that had been raining uselessly from the shower head for the last fifteen minutes.

The heat and the pounding of the water threatened to consume me in new waves of pain, but the desire to cleanse my body of the feel of his rough hands and aggressive mouth, held me in place as I scrubbed violently at my skin and between my legs, trying desperately to wash away the proof of his actions.

As I knew they would be, my attempts were in vain, and as I stood in the centre of my small bedroom, thirty minutes later, my right hand already secured in a brace, while I attempted to bind my ribs as tight as I could, realisation set in. . .It would take more than soap and water to wash away my self disgust.

It was not quite eight o'clock when I wandered into the kitchen, face caked in make-up, hair pulled back, and a false smile sketched upon my face. Mrs Hobbs, the kind woman that lived across the street, was standing by my stove, as she stirred ingredients into a large pan. She came over to watch Charlotte the three days a week that I worked at the local coffee shop.

"Morning," I greeted her quietly as I made my way over to the coffee machine, knowing that I would probably only have time for one cup and a slice of toast before Charlotte woke to begin her day.

"Good morning," Mrs Hobbs returned, as she glanced over her shoulder at me, "Would you like breakfast?"

"Thank you, Mrs Hobbs, but I'll just have toast this morning, you carry on, I can make it myself," I told her with a slight wave of my uninjured hand. I was still trying to pluck up the courage to turn to face my caring neighbour. Mrs Hobbs was probably the only person who would question my appearance and I still lacked an excuse.

"Very well, will you be going out this morning before work? It's a lovely day," Mrs Hobbs asked.

"Just in the garden I think, I'll set up the parasol to keep Lottie out of the sun. I'm not working this afternoon," I told her, and with a soft release of breath, I turned to face her with a forced smile that failed to reach my eyes.

"My goodness, what has happened to you now?" Mrs Hobbs exclaimed as she rushed to my side.

"Oh, you know me, Mrs Hobbs," I started, and rolled my eyes in mock exasperation, "I tripped over one of Lottie's toys last night and banged my face of the coffee table. My hand broke my fall and I think I've sprained my wrist," I shrugged indifferently, holding in a wince as my ribs screamed in protest.

"Huh, and I'm the Queen of Sheba!" Mrs Hobs muttered. Pretending I hadn't heard, I took a sip of my coffee and leaned back against the counter.

"Something smells good! What are you making?" I asked, attempting to draw the attention away from myself. No matter how many times I told her there was no need, Mrs Hobb's insisted on making dinner for us on the days she watched Charlotte. Sighing, Mrs Hobbs walked back to the stove.

"Chicken stew and apple pie for desert, I'll serve it with ice cream and a sprinkling of cinnamon," she replied. She may be getting on in years, but Mrs Hobbs was no fool. She knew what was going on, probably heard my screams more than once. _She_ didn't understand either.

"Sounds good. Will you join us? James is out of town and won't be home until tomorrow evening," I asked, as I pushed myself away from the counter and turned to grab a slice of bread out of the bread bin and slip it into the toaster.

"I'm always happy to share a meal with you, Kate," Mrs Hobbs smiled.

Before the toaster could pop, rustling and chatting could be heard over the baby monitor. Smiling at Mrs Hobbs, I placed my coffee cup down, and without though of my breakfast, I turned to exit the room. Charlotte was the light of my life, the silver lining that reflected at the edge of a storm cloud. With her curly brown hair and deep brown eyes, she was my mirror images and probably the only reason I was still here to tell my tale.

"Hey sweetie," I smiled as I walked into her room, Charlotte had already gotten herself out of bed and was sitting on the floor playing with her crayons. She looked up at me and frowned. The one thing about James' abuse that hurt the most, was that Charlotte was beginning to notice.

"Mama have a boo-boo," she stated as she pushed herself up off the floor and toddled over to me.

"Mama, tripped and fell, sweetie," I laughed, trying to make light of it for her as I scooped her up into my arms, ignoring the pain that tore through me, and kissed the top of her silky head, taking a moment to breathe in her baby smell.

"Lottie, kisses better?" she pouted, reaching up to kiss the side of my face, my lip and my temple. How I longed to see the world through the eyes of an innocent child. "Aww better!" she exclaimed.

"All better," I promised, choking back the tears that were threatening to fall, "Are you hungry?"

"Yup," she nodded, "Pancakes!"

"You want pancakes?" I asked tickling her side, relishing in the sound of her giggles, "Well lets get you dressed first, okay?"

"Okie-dokie Mommy," she cried, racing off into the bathroom.

"Look, Mama!" Charlotte giggled rushing back to my side, her chocolate curls bouncing around her shoulders and the sun reflecting of her red highlights.

"What is it, honey?" I asked crouching down to her level, ignoring my protesting ribs.

"A 'pilla," she grinned, opening up her grubby little hands to show me the wriggling green caterpillar that she had probably almost crushed to death in her excitement.

We didn't have a large back yard, just a small patio area with three white plastic chairs, a wonky table and a small grassed area with bushes that had been planted by our landlords before we moved in.

"A caterpillar? Wow, baby, where did you find it?" I asked, smiling as I ran my hands through her hair. She was the light of my life, her happiness was infectious, casting a small ray of light over the shadows of my life James insisted we married after I found out I was pregnant, and despite the consequences brought on by her creation, I'd do it all again in a heartbeat if given the chance. I would give my life up a million times over if I got to keep Charlotte.

"The tree!" she exclaimed, "S'gonna be my flutterby."

"Is that right?" I asked, smiling again, despite the split in my lip and the aching in my jaw.

"Yup," she nodded, "Mine, mine, mine," she giggled clasping her hand as she danced around the patio.

"Well if we're gonna keep him, he has to have a name, somewhere to live, and lots and lots of food," I told her, regaining her attention.

"He can sweep in my bed."

"No, honey, he has to have a place of his own to sleep, your bed's too big for him, he might get lost, or you might lie on him in your sleep!" I explained taking her hand and leading her back into the house.

Mrs Hobbs left not long after Charlotte had woken. I was in no fit state to go into work this afternoon, lifting boxes and handling coffee may not sound like hard work, but with what I was sure were broken ribs, the pain in my wrist and the bruise on my face – no – I was better waiting until Monday. Angela, my boss, was understanding when I'd told her that I was I sick, but how much longer that would be the case, I had no idea. I wasn't entitled to sick pay, so the shop wasn't losing money, but she still had to go to the trouble of finding somebody to cover my shifts every time James did enough damage for me to be unfit to be seen in public.

"Where wiw he sweep?" Charlotte protested, as we walked into the kitchen.

"Well, remember the fishes we used to have," I started as I bent to retrieve the item I was looking for from under the sink.

"Yup," she nodded, "Theys gone to heaven."

"Right, well, Mommy kept their tank, we can collect lots of leaves from the tree you found him on and make him a bed in that," I told her with another smile, as I pulled the small plastic fish tank out of the cupboard.

Thrusting the caterpillar into my hand, she turned and darted back out of the door, giggling all the way. I cringed and dumped him in the bottom of the tank. I hated anything with more than four legs!

Running back and forth for the next ten minutes, Lottie soon had the small tank filled with leaves, Boots, the name she had given to her new pet caterpillar, was now buried somewhere underneath, and the lid was on so he wouldn't escape.

"How about we take Boots up to your room and he can take a nap with you?" I asked her as she sat drinking milk from her sippy cup.

"I's not sweepy," she protested on a yawn.

"You're not?" I asked laughing, "Well I'm sure Boots is and I bet he'd like it if you took a nap with him." She pondered that for a moment glancing from the TV to the yard to the tank and with a sigh nodded her head. "Come on, honey," I laughed helping her down from her chair.

After placing Boots on her dresser and tucking Lottie in bed with her favourite teddy – Smooch, and reading her a short story, I closed the blinds and headed back downstairs. Once in the kitchen I made myself a cup of coffee, checked on the dinner that Mrs Hobbs had made and grabbed a couple of pain killers out of the cupboard.

I planned to spend the next twenty four hours basking in James' absence. His paternal grandfather had died three days ago, and he'd had to fly down California to attend the funeral. I wasn't invited to go – thank God – I never was. As far as James' family was concerned, Charlotte and I didn't exist. As far as _anyone_ was concerned really. The only time I was allowed out of the house was to go to work, and I'd only been allowed that for the past six months.

So after picking up Lottie's toys I took the much needed chance to rest. Sitting on our one lumpy couch, I flicked on the TV and rested my head. There was nowhere I didn't hurt and I closed my eyes trying to will the pain away.

Jumping up, the first thing I noticed was that it was darker than it should have been. I looked over at the clock above the fire place, blinking repeatedly, sure that I was seeing things, there was no way that it was six fifteen! No way that Lottie had slept for four and a half hours. I looked over at the baby monitor that I had brought in with me from the kitchen earlier, listening for the quiet sounds of her breathing, or her sweet voice as she played with her toys, but there was nothing!

Standing too quickly and ignoring the sudden rush of dizziness that tried to take me under, I ran up the stairs, stopping just outside the door, not wanting to scare Lottie by running in to her room like a mad woman. Taking a deep breath and telling myself that everything was all right, that she was just still sleeping, I pushed the door open and crept slowly into her room.

Everything was as it had been when I had put her to bed this afternoon. The blinds were still drawn, Boots was still on her dresser and Smooch was still lying on the bed. The book I'd read for her before tucking her in was still resting on her bedside table next to her sippy cup, her trainers were placed neatly at the bottom of her bed and the crayons she had been using this morning were still scattered around the floor. The only difference was that the bed covers were pulled back and Lottie was _not _just still sleeping.

"Lottie!" I called, trying not to panic, she must have been in the bathroom, or playing hide and go seek, "Lottie!" I called again, rushing into the empty bathroom, "Lottie, where are you?" I shouted, rushing from room to room, checking in closets and under beds. "Charlotte, you have to come out now, you're scaring Mommy!" My vision was starting to blur, my hands were shaking and my heart was hammering in my chest. _Dear God please, please let her be here somewhere!I _I prayed, she had to be here, there was nowhere else she could be. Rushing to the front door and then the back, I checked both of them to make sure they were locked, and satisfied that there was no way she could have gotten out of the house I raced back up the stairs.

"Charlotte Hunter, you come out right now" I yelled, pulling at my hair as I turned in circles at the top of the stairs, but still she didn't appear.

"Jesus Christ!" I yelled, "Charlotte, please! Please come out for Mommy!" I sobbed out, tears were streaming down my face as I ran back downstairs and after fighting with the lock, I yanked the back door open.

"CHARLOTTE!" I screamed, running into the garden, but there was nowhere for her to hide out here. Regardless, I checked behind the bushes before running down the side of the house and out of the gate into the front yard. "CHARLOTTE! CHARLOTTE!"

"Kate," I screamed and jumped round as a gentle hand gripped my shoulder from behind. Mrs Hobbs stood there, a frown marring her face, "What's going on?" she asked.

"Charlotte, I can't. . .I can't. . ." I stuttered out, "CHARLOTTE!" I yelled again falling to my knees on the drive way. "Charlotte!" I sobbed out, choking on the word as it left my lips.

"Kate, where's Lottie?" Mrs Hobbs asked , as I felt her crouch down behind me. My head was buried in my hands as my whole body shook with my sobs. Unconsciously I had known that Mrs Hobbs was the last place I could look for her, the last place I knew she could be. My chest was constricting painfully as I tried to draw a desperate breath that didn't want to come. I couldn't breath, my vision was blurring and I could hear Mrs Hobbs trying to talk to me but her words were not making it through.

"Breathe, sweetheart, come on, Kate, you have to breath, that's it, calm down, I can't help you unless you tell me what's going on," Mrs Hobbs whispering was coming through slowly, and I took a huge shuddering breath.

"I-I can't find, Charlotte," I sobbed out, "She was sleeping, an-and I fell asleep. . .on the couch. . .she's not here!"

I felt myself being pulled up from the ground and into someone's arms and I screamed out in pain as my ribs were crushed against the stranger's chest. It was a man, I could smell his cologne and I smacked against his chest trying to break free of the hold he had of me.

"Please, please!" I begged, thrashing uselessly against him.

"Kate, ssh, it okay, you're okay. Jake put her on the couch," I heard Mrs Hobbs instruct the stranger. I felt myself being lowered , and then the familiar lumps of the couch pushing against my back, before everything went black.

"Good morning, honey," I whispered as I felt Lottie running her finger through my hair. My throat was aching and my voice was thick from sleep.

"Kate?" I heard a familiar voice ask quietly – a voice that most definitely did _not_ belong to Lottie.

"Mrs Hobbs?" I asked in confusion, my eyes felt like they were glued together as I tried to peel them open, "Where's Lottie?"

A quiet sob sounded from somewhere to my left, and I turned my head, blinking my eyes repeatedly as the glaring lights from above burned my retina. Looked around the stark white room, noticing the railing on my bed, the curtains pulled back around it, and the monitors that were beeping quietly. I raised my hand to my face, wincing as the cannula that was placed in the back of my hand, pulled against the skin, and ran my fingers against the tube that was taped across my cheek.

I was in the hospital!

Tears began pouring from my eyes before I could even attempt to stop them. I could hear the bleeping of the machines pick up along with my heart rate and my Mrs Hobb's quiet reassurance, but I didn't care. I slammed my eyes shut as the night came back to me.

Lottie was gone!

I had to find her, I had to get up and find her! What was I doing?

Sitting up suddenly, I pulled first at the tube against my face, yanking it off before my Mrs Hobbs could even draw breath. Next was the sats. monitor, and the cannula in my hand. Blood poured out as I ripped it from my skin, but I ignored the pain that sliced through my hand, I'd had much worse than that.

"Kate!" I heard my Mrs Hobbs yell somewhere in the back of my mind, but I ignored her too, as I pulled myself up from the bed, my legs threatening to give out at any moment.

"I have to find her!" I chanted over and over again, as I searched the room for something to wear.

Spotting the jeans I'd had on earlier today I grabbed them and pushed first one leg and then the other into the holes and pulled them up. Before I could pull the hospital gown up over my head, the door to the room burst open and a crowd of people rushed in. I looked at them, my eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlight of an eighteen wheeler. The three nurses, two doctors and Mrs Hobbs all stood there, panic clearly written on each of their faces.

What were they afraid of?

Although I backed up into the corner of the room, I deftly attempted to ignore them as I reached behind me and undid the ties at the back of the hospital gown.

"Kate?" A quiet male voice called out, I ignored him too, still struggling to get the gown off my body.

Undoing the last tie, I picked up my t-shirt and pulled it over my head before shrugging out of the gown. The gasps that rang around the room didn't go un-noticed as I quickly pulled my top down over my naked, bruised and battered torso.

I looked down for my shoes and attempted not to notice the blood pouring down the back of my hand, staining my once white t-shirt a sickening red.

Again, I'd seen worse!

"Kate, you have to calm down, sweetheart," the voice sounded again and I snapped, all the fear, anger and desperation came pouring out of me – all aimed at the stranger that was attempting to keep me from finding my daughter.

"Calm down?" I screeched, "My two year old daughter goes missing from her bed in the middle of the Goddamn day and you're asking me to calm the fuck down? NO! I won't calm down. She's been gone for five hours, she's two years old, she's lost and scared and afraid and hurting, I KNOW SHE IS! Now get out of my way, all of you!" I gritted out as I said fuck it to finding my shoes and tried to push my way through the crowd of people.

Arms gripped me around my waist and I screamed out in pain and fright.

"Kate please,you need to calm down. You're not thinking straight. We're all here to help you, please, Kate," Mrs Hobbs cried as she pulled me back against her with surprising strength.

"Let me go," I spat, struggling in her arms, "She's my daughter, she needs me!"

"I know, Kate, I know, but you are no use to her like this."

"You don't understand. . .I can't. . .I just can't sit here doing nothing," I sobbed, my knees giving way, "I have to find her. . .I have to. . .I have to,"

"Ssh, honey. I know, I know, we're all here to help you find her," She whispered.

It was then that it dawned on me!

I looked to the window, the blinding sunlight confirming my thoughts. Charlotte had been gone a lot longer than five hours.

"How long?" I choke out, "How long have I been sleeping? How long has she been gone?" Silence filled the room as I looked from person to person, my heart rate increasing with the time I waited, "HOW LONG!"

"You've been out for a while, honey. Around forty hours or so. It's Wednesday," Mrs Hobbs whispered.

"Oh God! Oh God, no!" I cried out. I could feel the blackness surrounding my vision again as my body went limp in Mrs Hobbs' arms. It took everything I had left in me at this point to stop it from taking over. Charlotte needed me!

"Get her back on the bed," I heard someone say, I was too past it to care what they did with me.

Someone scooped me up in his arms and I felt myself being lowed to the bed. I heard the door to the room open and close, so I knew someone had left but I didn't look up. One of my hands was pulled away from my face, and I just sat their quietly as I felt gentle hands working to clean up the mess I had made by pulling out the cannula.

"Why didn't you wake me?" I whispered to no-one in particular.

"We tried, sweetheart. Your body had gone into shock, you just weren't ready to be awake." The gentle voice from earlier told me.

I raised my head and looked at the doctor for the first time. I would guess that he was in his late forties, he was blond with warm honey coloured eyes and a gentle smile, he was probably one of the best looking men I had ever seen.

"When can I get out of here?" I asked him, my eyes pleading. He looked over at Mrs Hobbs and nodded his head slightly.

"Katie, honey?" She called, I pulled my dead eyes away from the doctor and looked over at her, "I need you to listen to me, okay? Can you do that?" I nodded.

"First you need to know that we have launched a nationwide search for Charlotte," she choked out her name, "The detectives that are leading the investigation are on standby, waiting to take your statement. I let them into your house to conduct a search." At the mention of the house my whole body froze in fear.

"Where's James?" I asked, terrified of what I would hear.

"There was an accident," she told me.

"What kind of accident?" I asked.

"His plane went down yesterday afternoon, somewhere over Colorado. He's dead."

* * *

**Any guesses yet as to what is happening? Would love to hear your thoughts.**

**Tori**

**x**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 repost.**

**Again, this is one that some of you could have read, but it's changed slightly. **

**Let me know what you think - again ha!**

**Tori**

**x**

* * *

Chapter 3 – Edward

June 2011

"You're mistaking me for someone who gives a fuck!" I stated plainly. Leaning back in my chair, I folded my arms and waited. Surely this guy wasn't as stupid as he was making himself out to be?

"Sir, President Obama is in full support of the. . ." he began again, proving me wrong – apparently he really was _that_ stupid.

"If the President has a problem with the goods we're supplying,then please say so now and I'll take it up with him personally," I interrupted, with a shrug. It was taking every ounce of the self-control I possessed to keep my outwards appearance calm and collected, while in reality, I wanted nothing more than to shoot the fucker between the eyes.

Mike Newton was becoming the baneof my existence. As Assistant to the Assistant Secretary of Defence, in my opinion, he had no business in trying to renegotiate our existing contracts. A ten year contract that had been written up, agreed upon and signed by Obama, Gates and myself shortly after he made it to the White House three years ago.

"There's no problem with the products. As per the adjustment clause in the original contracts, the government has increased it's requested shipments yearly. Cullen Corp. now supply thirty percent of the military's weaponry, aircraft and electronic systems," Mike continued, feeding me bull-shit numbers six months out of date. We supplied overthirty-eight percent now, "The fact that more products are being shipped out, cost to the government could be reduced."

"The government are not purchasing fucking consumer goods from us, Mike!" I snapped, finally loosing my patience with him, "Electronics, materials and Goddamn fucking man hours don't reduce when providing WMD's and fucking fighter jets. You want bulk buying reductions? Go to fucking Walmart!" I threw the proposal, he'd so kindly provided me with, back across the table, and looked over at Jasper Whitlock, my head of Strategic Development, and Ben Cheney, my CFO. "Am I wrong?" I asked impatiently.

"No, boss," Jasper replied with a slight twist of his lips.

"I didn't think so!" I nodded and turned back to the fuckwit sent over by Panetta, "Like I said, if Obama has a fucking problem, tell him to contact me himself. We're done!" I told him, raising from the conference table and walking out of the room without looking back.

I heard Ben attempting to smooth over my outburst, apologising and trying to explain in more detail why it was _just not feasible_ to reduce the costs to the government, but I blocked him out just as surely as the thick oak door that slammed shut behind me. I was making no fucking apologies, as far as I was concerned a contact was a fucking contract. The end!

Rosalie was tapping away at her computer as I strode past her desk and into my office, slamming the door behind me. I sawher look up at me briefly as I stormed past and was sure that she would have morethan one message to relay,but I didn't give a fuck right now.

Reaching the desk that sat in the centre of the room, I sank into the leather seat behind it and closed my eyes. I could feel the anger and frustration swirling together in the pit of my stomach and I needed to try and get control of it before I blew the fuck up. Now wasn't the time and it most certainly wasn't the place.

Before I was ready, three raps at the door had me opening my eyes seconds before Rosalie strode into the room.

"What?" I barked, glaring at her as she made her way over to my desk. Her constant lack of respect, like dry kindling to my sparks of irritation. Was it really that fucking hard to knock on a door and wait?

"Coffee!" She answered with a roll of her eyes – so fucking disrespectful. Placing the steaming cup of black coffee on my desk, she handed me a stack of files, "Jenks called, Cook signed the four year deal, he's sending over the contracts later today, Emmett sent over the security tape you asked for, he'll be up at twelve to go over it with you, and you need to call your mother back, she's called five times in the last two days."

I nodded curtly, knowing that if I opened my mouth I'd find myself in need of a new secretary, and dismissed her with a wave of my hand. She huffed and turned to leave the room, slamming the door behind her.

Disregarding the files Rosalie had handed to me, I picked up the coffee and spun my chair around to face the wall of windows that framed my desk. I took a deep breath and watched in envy as mother nature released her fury in a brilliant display of power. The rain was coming down in sheets, lightening lit the darkened sky and thunder rolled in the distance. I loved days like this, the summer sky dark and omnipresent, casting it's shadow across the New York skyline.

I couldn't see them from where I was sitting, fifty floors above thechaosthat was Manhattan, but I knew that if I stood at the window and looked down, crowds of people would be scurrying around like ants in a glass house, rushing to get in out of the storm, their multicoloured umbrella's failing to protect them from the wind that was picking up at a steady rate.

A part of me envied their mundane existence.

Taking a sip of the scalding hot liquid,I cracked my neck and rested my head on the back of my chair. I contemplated calling my mom now, getting the inevitable conversation out of the way. Don't get me wrong, I love my parents, and my sister, Alice. Theyare the only things left to ground me in this fucked up world. I just couldn't deal with my mom's constant need to set me up with this friends daughter,or that colleagues sister. It was all bullshit.

A relationship was something I didn't have the time or inclination for. I didn't have the fucking patience for one either.

My phone buzzed and I leaned over and hit the call button.

"Yes?" I asked, somewhat calmer now.

"Jessica called, apparently Laurent Hunter is in reception demanded to see you," Rosalie replied, hesitantly, "What shall I tell her?"

A smirk tugged at the corners of my lips. I had been waiting for this impromptu meeting for a few weeks now, it took the fucker long enough to figure it out.

"Tell her to send him on up, but to have security follow, I don't trust that the fuckers not gonna do something stupid," I chuckled. My day was starting to look up

Laurent Hunter! The need I felt to see that fucker riddled with bullet holes, was enough to consume me at times. If I didn't need him breathing for the time being, I would have tortured him to death a long time ago, him and his fucking ex father-in-law Aro Volturi. For now I was just enjoying taking my time destroying him.

"Where is that fucking little shit?" I suppressed the grin that wanted to spread across my face as I heard Laurents voice echo throughout the office. I could just picture his clenched fists and red face.

Without knocking or waiting to be shown in, my office door flew open, bouncing against the wall with such force that it just missed smacking Laurent in the face as it shot back towards him. I stayed seated and took a swig of my coffee, thoroughly enjoying watching him in his near apoplectic rage.

"What the fuck are you playing at, Cullen?" He demanded, slamming his hands on my desk. His attitude, one which at any other time would have earned him a beating, only served to fuel my amusement.

"Just enjoying my morning coffee, Laurent," I smirked, taking another sip of coffee, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Laurents ageing face was almost purple with rage, Alice would have a fit if she were here to see how it clashed with his orange tie and brown suit. Yes, I was most defiantly amused!

"You arrogant son-of-a-bitch, don't think for one minute that I'm going to let you get away with this. Hunter Group is _my_ fucking company," he yelled, getting far to close to my face for my amusement to stick. Standing from my chair I towered over him, he was too far gone to show any real fear – that would come later.

"If you had taken the time to review the numbers before showing your face in _my_ building, you'd know that Hunter Group is in fact now _my_ fucking company," I gritted out, while trying to convince myself that it was a bad idea to just kill him now.

It had taken me just over fourteen months; fourteen months of, investigations, covert meetings, negotiations, maybe a little dirt digging and a touch of blackmail but slowly and surely I'd bought up over fifty seven percent of Hunter Groups shares.

To be honest, it was almost too easy.

Before I could react, Laurent's hand shot out and grabbed my collar and the knot in my tie with one hand.

"I want my fucking company back!" He hissed in my face.

"And you know what _I_ want, but for now I'll settle for you getting the fuck off me," I spat, the 9mm I'd pulled out of the back of my waistband, now pressed tightly against his stomach, my index finger twitching to just pull the fucking trigger. I watched as all the colour drained from his face and he let go of my tie and took a small step back. "Now I suggest you either sit down or get the fuck out of my office."

"I don't believe that I'm in possession of anything that would interest _you_, Cullen," he gritted out between clenched teeth. I could see the war going on behind his eyes, the anger, the hatred, the fear all fighting for dominance. He remained standing, but I lowered my gun, placing it on the desk between us, and sat back in my chair. He knew what I wanted, he had done since he acquired it, but he'd never admit to it.

"You can cut the bull-shit any time you're ready, Laurent. I know you have it, you _know _I do," I challenged, "Now we can do this the easy way, or you can spend the next few months watching as I destroy you, taking apart your life's work piece by motherfucking piece."

"Over my dead body!" He spat, not the most intelligent statement to make when you've got a 9mm pointing at you.

"If that's the way you want it," I shrugged, but didn't raise the gun, it was too much of a temptation, instead I reached over and pressed the call button on my phone.

"Yes, Mr Cullen?" Rosalie chirped.

"Please send Garrett in, Mr Hunter was just leaving," I smirked, glancing over at Laurent. I let the amusement show in my eyes, the last thing I needed was for him to know how much this whole thing was getting to me.

"Right away, sir," see, she can be respectful on occasion!

"You should know that I'm going to do this as slowly and as painfully as possible. I'll strike when you least expect it and where it hurts the most," I promised, "Just like last time." It took a few second but I saw the moment he realised what I'd said. His whole face contorted – and the hatred took over.

"I kill you!" he spat, "I'll fucking kill you!"

"Looking forward to it," I nodded, "Garrett, please see that Mr Hunter leaves the building." Garrett, who had silently entered the room just moments ago, was ex secret service, he'd been one of my personal guards for the last five years, and I trusted him; and his counter part, Alistair, with my life.

"Right away, boss," he said quietly, his voice hard and dangerous, "If you'll follow me, Mr Hunter?" he didn't wait for a reply, he simply grabbed Laurent by the scruff of his neck and frog marched him from the room. Laurent didn't go silently, I could hear his death threats echoing down the hallway.

Resting my elbows on the desk, I placed my head in my hands and scrubbed at my face. This wasn't suppose to happen, it was all suppose to be cut and dry, but I'd fucked up, fucked up big style, and the guilt that consumed me was worse then the heartbreak that failed to lessen as the years passed. It was all taking too long rectify. The buzz of the intercom had me sitting up straight and taking a calming breath I answered.

"Yes?"

"Emmett will be up in forty, if you want to take time to review the tapes he sent up, and your mother's on line one." Rosalie laughed.

I flipped her the bird, even if she couldn't see me, and picked up line one, asI flicked on my computer monitor and opened the email that Emmett, my head of security, had sent over.

"Morning, Mom."

"So,you _are_ still alive!" Was the greeting I received.

"No, you get one phone call in hell too," I replied dryly, half of my mind on my conversation with Esme Cullen, AKA Mom, and half on the security tape.

"Not funny, Edward," my Mom huffed, "Trying to get you on the phone is like getting blood from a stone!"

"That's the best reference you can come up with? I wonder where I get my intellect from at times," I laughed lightly.

"Well it wasn't your damn father!" She exclaimed.

"What's he done now?" I asked as I watched the black, unmarked Audi weaving in and out of traffic on the computer screen, zooming in to try and see the face of the dick that decided to try and ram my fucking car off the road last night.

"Scheduled surgery the day of your grandparents ruby wedding!"

"Ah!" I sighed at the pointless conversation, normally I'd hang up, or tell my conversation partner to get to the fucking point – but she's my mother, so I didn't, "He won't miss it. He probably just wants to be out from under your feet while you're doing all the last minute. . .things." Out of the way was probably more accurate.

"You're still coming aren't you?" She asked, finally getting to the point.

"I'll bethere,with bells on," I promised her. The fucker in the car was wearing a balaclava. Dick!

"Right, and you're bringing a date?"

"No!"

"Edward," she huffed again.

"Not going there, Mom,"I told her through gritted teeth, "I've got a meeting to get to," I lied. Emmett won't be here for another half an hour.

"Right, well I'll see you Friday. Don't be late,"

"When am I ever?" I asked.

"I'm not going to answer that," she laughed, "I'll see you Friday, eight o'clock!"

"Bye, Mom," I sighed, ignoring her not so subtle reminder.

"Bye, darling."

Hanging up the call, I printed a few screen shots of the car and driver, zooming in on his eyes, his build and the wedding band and tattoo across his knuckles. Internally I was seething, it was the same fucking MO, same make of car as the last time, only that time I didn't have the fucking security tapes or an armoured car. My stomach clenched and I rubbed the spot where my heart once was, trying to ease the pain in the phantom organ.

I heard Emmett's boisterous laugh coming from just outside my office door and I quickly stood and grabbed the screen shots off the printer, stormed across the room,and yanked the door open.

Emmett stood leaning against Rosalie's desk, laughing as he spoke on the 't see Rosalie, as Emmett huge frame was blocking her from my view, but I would hazard a guess that as usual,Rosalie was ignoring him.

"I haven't got all fucking day, Emmett," I barked. "Rosalie, I want to know what that means," I told her slamming the close up of the tattoo on her desk, "And I want to know fucking yesterday. I want to know whose design it is, where they work, where they live, where their fucking kids go to school, and I want to know if that symbol is affiliated with any groups, gangs, anti-terrorist, hell even the fucking pope." I slammed my hand down over the picture and pushed it closer to her.

A startled gasp had me whipping my head around. Standing, with her back flush against the wall at the side of Rosalie's desk, was a little slip of a girl,no,a woman. Her whole body was shaking, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest, protecting herself. Her long brown hair was scrapped back off her face and her bottom lip was caught between her teeth. But it was her eyes that caught and held my attention, they were huge, brown, wide in fright,and absolutely and utterly dead. It was like all the life had been slowly and painfully drawn out of her!

But I knew those eyes, I would know those eyes anywhere.

Before I could say anything, _do_ anything, she slid her body along the wall, around the corner and turned and bolted for the stairwell. I stood, frozen, my eyes transfixed on the door she had just run through.

"Who the fuck was that?" I demanded, turning my glare on Rosalie.

"Don't look at me like that, you scared the shit out of her, dick," Rosalie glared right back.

"Watch who you're fucking talking to," I yelled, slamming my hands on her desk again. My whole body was shaking, and I felt like my heart was about to beat it's way out of my chest, "Who the fuck was she?"

"Woah, dude, chill," Emmett butted in.

"Fuck off, Emmett," I snapped, I was in no mood for interruptions right now.

"Edward, chill," Emmett laughed, "That's Kate, sheworksat the coffee shop on the first floor, she delivers lunches an' coffee an' stuff."

"She's delivered yours for the past six months," Rosalie joined in, pointing to the brown paper bag on her desk and rolling her eyes. I glared at her, just daring her to do it again.

"Why is this the first I've heard of her? What do you know about her?" I demanded. Her eyes were haunting me and I didn't like it.

"Why would I tell you about her? She just delivers lunches. She's quiet, never really says much, so I've nothing to tell you anyway," Rosalie shrugged, picking up thephotosthat had started this whole thing, "I'll get right on this."

"You do that," I nodded, "Emmett!" I commanded,and turned to walk back into my office, leaving the door open for him to follow.

He did, just a couple of steps behind, my delivered lunch in his hand. Closing the door behind him he made his way over to my desk, placed the bag next to my computer, and seated himself across from me. Waiting while I pulled myself together enough to shoot off a quick text to Alice. What I was thinking was ridiculous, there was no way that it was her. But if anyone would know it would be Alice.

"You need to take a chill pill, dude. You're gonna give yourself a heart attack before you're thirty five," he laughed,stretching out in the chair, "An' Rosie don't deserve talking to like that," he glared at me.

"_Rosalie_," I stressed her name, "Can stand up for herself," I huffed, pulling the brown bag to me and taking out the turkey sub. I couldn't bring myself to take a bite though. I felt as though my whole world had been turned upside down. "What have you got for me?"

"Not much I'm afraid. We know it's the fucking Volturi – who else would it be?" He huffed, "The perp's male, caucasian, I estimate about six to six two by his upper build, blue eyes, married. The only distinguishing mark is the tat that you've got Rosie looking into," he shrugged, "The car, Audi A5, black, two thousand and nine to present. Sam's looking into the paint sample he pulled off your car."

I nodded, but I was only half listening to what he was saying. I was fiddling with my phone, waiting for Alice to call me back. My mind was a wash with impossible possibilities and I was sure my body was going into shock.

"Ed, you okay?" Emmett asked quietly. I snapped my eyes away from my phone and looked up at him.

"How long have you know. . .Kate?" I asked, swallowing back the bile in my throat.

"Coffee shop Kate?" He asked, frowning. When I slowly nodded he went on, "A few months, why?"

"Doesn't she remind you of anyone?" I whispered. I looked into his eyes and waited. I could almost see him running though a catalogue of names and faces trying to place her with the right one. I also saw the moment he got it.

"Oh, fuck!"


	4. Chapter 4

**So the plot thickens...any of you got it yet?**

* * *

Chapter 4 - Kate

The stairwell door slammed shut behind me and although I knew, _knew,_ that it was just closing after my hurried passage through it, I still screamed out in fright. My heart was still racing, my whole body shaking as I ran and ran, as fast as my legs would carry me, down, down, down, I ran until my legs just wouldn't run any more and I collapsed midway down a flight of stairs, my breathing labored and my vision blurred by my tears.

I was being completely irrational, I knew that too. I didn't even know the man. Oh I knew _who_ he was, I'd heard enough whispers and hushed conversations on my daily travels around the building to know that I'd just had my first run in with Edward Cullen. And the fact that he came storming out of the CEO's office, was all the confirmation I needed.

.

When his office door had first been ripped open I had just handedhis assistant his lunch – it was the same everyday, Turkey sub on white rye, no spread, no tomatoes, no onion, just four slices of turkey, lettuce and cucumber – I'd been so startled that I'd dropped the bag on her desk as I looked up. Everything about him screamed alpha-male, his build, his stance, the ridged set of his jaw, and I felt the first spikes of fear induced adrenaline shoot through my veins. Every cell in my body was screaming at me to run, to get as far away from him as fast as possible – and then he opened his mouth and my whole body froze, I was terrified.

And that's where the irrational side of me took over. I had no reason to be so scared, not only were there other people about, but his anger wasn't aimed at me, it wasn't even aimed at his assistant, it was just there, bubbling just under the surface of his tailored suit. I could almost see his muscles rippling with the effectsof it.

I hadn't seen anyone so angry since the last time I'd seen _him_, I couldn't even say his name, I couldn't even think it. His death was so wrapped up in the pain of Charlotte's disappearance – God it hurt so much – I wrapped my arms around my waist, as tightly as I possibly could, attempting to hold myself together as new sobs, different ones, more agonising ones, ripped through my body.

Charlotte, my baby, God how I missed her, every second of every damn day, I missed her. Her laugh, her smile, her voice, her smell – she'll be turning fourtomorrow!

The day that my whole world imploded, the day I woke up in the cold, sterile hospital room, surrounded by people, but so very alone, still haunts my every waking moment, my sleeping ones too**, **– when I actually sleep that is.

They kept me there for two weeks, hiding me from the press, from the public eye – the Hunters didn't want people to see what their son had done to me. And I was so consumed with guilt. I knew it was my fault that Charlotte was taken, they had told me enought times.

Taken!

They thought I _killed _her!

And hid the body

By the time I'd left the police station, forty eight hours after I'd been taken in, I was numb, I'd died just as surly as _he_ had. I'd trashed the house that night, I'd screamed and cried and thrown anything and everything I could get my hands on. Then I'd curled up on myself in Charlotte's bed and cried myself to sleep – I hadn't cried since, not until today.

And that was what scared me the most about Edward Cullen, not his livid face, his heated words or his barely concealed anger, it was the fact that he made me feel!

Fear, anger, hatred, heartbreak, _agony_ – it all came flooding back, in that one split second that I had looked up into his deep green eyes, that safe, secure, comforting blanket of nothing I'd wrapped myself in that night in Charlotte's bed, had fluttered down from around my shoulders, shredding into a million scraps as it fell, exposing the gaping hole in my chest where my heart once lived.

But it wasn't that which had sent me running, no, the fear and anger and hatred, heartbreak and agony were what had me pinned against the wall, my body shaking and unresponsive. It was the attraction, the desire, the lust that had burned through my veins, the overwhelming need that his beautiful face and seething rage had ignited in my body that had me running for my life.

I couldn't do that to myself, not now, not again.

It was the look in his eyes, the ridged set of his jaw, his clenched fists and demanding tone. It had all felt so comforting, so familiar and it terrified me.

So I ran.

And now hereI was, in the cold stairwell, the summer storm outside paling in comparison to the one that was raging inside of me. All of the feelings I'd kept locked away deep inside, all battling to be the dominant emotion.

I grabbed my hair in two tightly clenched fists, pulling as hard as I could, hoping the physical pain would drown out the emotional one as I screamed out in agony, not caring that someone could hear me.

I didn't care, I just didn't care any more!

I didn't hear the door open, didn't hear the footsteps behind me or the whispered words of comfort. It was the tight warm embrace that awakened me to the fact that I was no longer alone. I didn't care who it was, I hadn't been held in so, so long, that the overwhelming desire for someone, _anyone, _to just hold me was so great, that I fell into the strangers arms and held on for dear life crying out my agony in bone shaking sobs. I just neededsomeone to take away the sudden grief and pain that was threatening to consume me**. **

I cried and cried and cried. I had no idea how long we sat there, how long they held me, how many times they told me that I would be okay, that everything would be okay. It wouldn't, I knew that much at least, but I didn't tell them. I just sat and soaked up what comfort they were willing to give.

"Ali?" I heard a voice whisper, "Is everything okay? Do I need to call Edward?"

"I don't think so, can you grab my bag for me though? I left it in your office," the person still holding me whispered back. It was a woman. Now that I'd heard her voice, the whispered conversation that had seeped into my consciousness, I could feel that the body I was wrapped around was small and delicate.

"I'm sorry," I choked out, my breath stuttering, as I pulled back from her slightly.

"Ssh, it's okay," she reassured me quietly, pushing my hair back from my face, "How are you feeling?"

How _was_ I feeling? Drained, washed out, exhausted.

"Better," I whispered, "Thank you."

"None of that either. Now when Jasper brings my bag, we're gonna get you freshened up a little, then you and me are gonna find somewhere quiet where we can grab a coffee and talk, okay,?" she asked, gently, quietly and I looked up at her for the first time.

She was beautiful, her short spiky hair framed her small face, her deep green eyes were water logged and red rimmed – she'd been crying too, that thought brought tears back to my own eyes.

"I'm sorry," I apologised again, my voice thick and still shaky.

"Stop apologising," she smiled, a warm caring smile that had me breathing deeply to try and get my emotions back under control, "I'm Alice, by the way."

"Kate," I supplied with a small, weak smile of my own.

"Well, it's nice to meet you. . .Kate. Now about that drink?" she asked again and for the first time in eighteen months, I wanted this. I wanted to talk to someone, talk about what happened, what I'd been through. I didn't know if I would be able to, but I wanted to try.

"I'd like that," I nodded, offering her another smile, a slightly bigger one this time.

"Good," she nodded, just as the door to the stairwell opened up.

Now _this_ man I knew. He was tall and blond, his suit highlighting his muscular frame, his blue eyes softening as he looked down at us both still sat huddled together on the stairwell. It was Jasper Whitlock, CFO of Cullen Corp.

"Here you go, honey," he said softly as he handed her a huge pale pink handbag, "You both okay?" he asked looking at me this time.

"Thanks, babe," Alice smiled back at him as she took hold of her bag, "We're fine. _Kate_ and I are gonna go grab a coffee so I'll see you at home later."

I looked down at the hand that was holding her bag and cringed. I'd been crying all over the CFO's wife – what a complete moron I was!

"Okay," he nodded, his voice still quiet and soft, "I hope you're feeling better soon, Kate," he smiled at me.

"Thank you, Mr Whitlock," I replied, my voice just as quiet, "I'm sorry about all this."

"You've nothing to apologise for, darlin'," he told me, and I could see he meant it, "I'll see you at home, Ali." And then he was gone, walking back through the door he had just come through.

"Right, well let see what we can do shall we?" Alice giggled, pulling my attention back to her. She was rummaging through the huge bag, pulling out all kind of beauty products. My eyes went wide, I'd never seen so many products outside of Macy's, "What department do you work in?" She asked as she pulled out a brush and a small compact mirror.

My face paled and a muffled curse left my lips. I hadn't even thought about work. Taking up Mr Cullen's lunch was always the first job of the day, after which I would return back to the coffee shop and grab the trolley to deliver the lunches around the building that had been ordered that day. I had no idea how long I had been MIA.

"I have to go!" I exclaimed, jumping up. Alice looked up at me frowning slightly.

"Why?" she asked, confused.

"Because, I've been gone God knows how long. Seth is gonna kill me," I cried, panicked. I needed this job, it was my only means of paying for my studio apartment in Harlem – not the best neighbourhood, but it was all I could afford. My adrenaline spiked again. I didn't like it. I'd been used to feeling absolutely nothing for so long, each and every emotion that was coursing though me felt like it was supercharged.

"Calm down, hon," Alice instructed, standing up and grabbing both of my arms gently in her hands, "Now tell me, who is Seth and why is he going to kill you?"

"Seth is my boss," I told her, taking deep calming breaths, "I work at The Coffee Shop on the ground floor. I was suppose to be delivering lunches," I explained.

"Okay!" Alice nodded, fishing through her bag again. This time she pulled out her phone, tapping in a number and pressing send. I watched her, wondering what she was doing, "Hi, Jessica, It's Alice, Alice Whitlock," she started, "Can you patch me through to Seth at The Coffee Shop, please?"

She went quiet then, and my eyes opened wide and my face paled further.

"No, Alice," I whispered, but she ignored me.

"Hi, is that Seth?" She asked, "Great, I'm Alice Whitlock, a friend of Kate's. She's not feeling well, been in the bathroom throwing up for the past hour, so I'm gonna take her home," she paused and I held my breath, "That's great, Seth, will do. Thank you so much, Bye now!"

"What?" I asked panicking again as she stuffed her phone back in her handbag.

"Seth told me to tell you that he's sorry you're not feeling well, he hopes you feel better soon and if you can't make it in tomorrow just to give him a call," she nodded, then smiled, "Right, now where were we?" she asked, looking down at the products that she had placed out on the stairs.

Picking up a black stretchy headband she pulled it over my head then lifted it over my face, pushing the front of my hair back. I stood there silently as she went to work, wiping my face with cleansing cloths, applying creams and God know what else. I was in a stress and tear induced trance as she worked quickly to put me to rights.

"There, done!" She exclaimed,as she pulled the brush through my hair for the last time, "What do you think?" she asked holding a small mirror up to my face.

She hadn't done much, just calmed down the blotches that I was sure were covering my face from all the crying I'd been doing. Applied a little make-up and pulled my hair down, but I almost didn't recognise myself. The dead look in my eyes gave me away though.

"Thank you," I whispered, handing her back the mirror.

"You're welcome, now lets go," she packed her bag and grabbed hold of my hand, pulling me down one more flight of stairs on to what I saw was the thirty sixth floor. I hadn't got very far down before I'd collapsed, just thirteen and a half flights.

The stairwells were dark in comparison to the brightly lit office spaces, and I blinked my tender eyes as the lights made them water. Alice pressed the call button for the elevator and we stood in silence as we waited for it to arrive.

Now that this was really happening, I was really going out for coffee with a virtual stranger, a stranger that wanted me to talk about biggest pain, my greatest loss, my insides started to churn. And the hole in my heart, the one that had been ripped open and left to bleed not two hours ago, started to throb. I wrapped my arms back around by chest, hoping to hold the gaping hole together, hoping that I wouldn't bleed out onto the rich carpets that lined the hallways of Cullen Corp.

If Alice noticed my protective stance or the increase in my breathing, she didn't say anything. She just placed a gentle hand on the base of my spine as she lead me into the elevator. She kept her hand there the whole way down to the basement and across the parking garageuntil we arrived at a bright yellow car. I had no idea what type of car it was, but it looked sporty, and it kinda hurt my eyes to look at it.

"Come on, Kate," Alice whispered as she opened my door and helped me slide into the seat.

I'd been distracted in the stairwell as Alice had worked her voodoo magic on me. That distraction was gone now, so in a vain attempt to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall again, I watched the storm that raced around us and we moved slowly along the streets of Manhattan. There were crowds of people rushing to get in out of the downpour, even the windscreen wipers fought uselessly against the rain.

Soft classical music played in thebackgroundand Alice hummed along to it quietly, it was strangely soothing and heartbreaking at the same time. I hadn't listened to classical music – any music really – since _that _day. I bit my lip and looked out of the side window again, trying to block it all out.

I didn't have a clue where we were going, and I didn't know Alice enough to say that I trusted her, that no harm would come to me, it was just that I really didn't care! If she was taking me to my death somewhere – what did I have to live for anyway?

_Charlotte_ my subconscious shouted, _you have to live for Charlotte! _

Yes I'd given up on myself, life, love, meaning. It was all over, but the one thing I would _never_ give up on was Charlotte. It was the one and only reason that I could still think, still _say_ her name and not _his_. She was still out there somewhere, waiting for me to find her, loving me as I loved her. If I locked her away, didn't think about her, didn't buy her birthday gifts and Christmas cards, then it would be as if she never existed, and Icouldn'tlive in a world where she didn't exist!

I swallowed back the sob that was trying to break free as I felt the car slow and Alice turned into another underground parking lot. She turned and smiled at me softly, patted my knee and climbed out of the car.

"Come on," she twitched her head to the side, towards the wall where two elevators stood, their silver doors closed, hiding what lay behind them, where Alice had brought me.

"Where are we?" I asked quietly, as I climbed out of the car and followed along behind Alice.

"My place, well our place, Jasper'sand mine. I thought that it would give us a little more privacy than a coffee shop. I have a feeling that we are about to embark on a difficult journey," she smiled sadly – she had no idea. "We may need reinforcements,and my old friend Jose is always good for that." she laughed lightly.

I followed her into the elevator and watched as she pushed the button for the penthouse, inserting a pin number into the keypad when the screen requested it. I had no idea things like that even existed. I was quiet on the ride up, but when I stepped into the marble entry way of Alice's apartment, I could do nothing to stop the small gasp that left my lips. The place was out of this world.

"Wow, Alice. This is beautiful," I complimentedas I followed her into the kitchen. There was no hallway off the elevator leading to a door with a number on it, no, the lift came straight into the penthouse.

"Thanks, it's nothing compared to my brother'splace, but we love it here," she smiled as she placed her bag down on the kitchen counter and flipped on the coffee machine, "Pull up a chair, take a load off," she laughed.

Doing as I was told, I pulled one of the comfy looking bar stools – an oxymoron in itself, but true none-the-less – out from under the breakfast bar and hopped up. Resting my elbows on the granite counter I watched Alice as she pulled out mugs, cream, sugar, salt, a lime that she sliced up, two shot glasses and a bottle of Jose Cuervo Gold. She filled the two mugs with coffee and handed one to me. I took it gratefully, added a little cream, and took a small sip. I think it had to be the best coffee I'd ever tasted.

"This is good," I told her honestly.

"It is, not as good as this though," she laughed handed me a shot of Jose, "Salute," she raised her glass, licked the salt off the back of her hand and knocked the drink back, quickly gabbing a section of lime as she shook her head, cringing.

I laughed, actually laughed. It was only a small one, but it was the first time that I'd done it in so long. I couldn't even remember.

"Your turn," she nodded at me. Shaking my head, just knowing that this was a very bad idea, I licked my wrist, picked up the salt and followed the ritual Alice had just preformed.

I heaved. I couldn't help myself. It was disgusting!

"Not a fan?" Alice asked through her laughter.

"What gave it away?" I shuddered.

"Come on, grab your coffee," she instructed, grabbing her own and waiting for me to follow suit, "We'll sit in the den, it'smorecosy in there."

I nodded and followed behind her, taking in the beauty that was her home. The den, unlike the hallway and kitchen, was covered in a think beige carpet, I'd kicked off my shoes next to Alice's in the entry way, and the luxurious carpet tickled me between my toes as I walked.

Alice was right, the den was cosy, all beiges and warm browns. The walls were lined with pictures, both art andphotographs. The enormous dark brown couch looked like it would swallow me wholeand the huge picture window let in what light the stormy August sky would allow.

I walked over to the window, watching the rain drops as they bounced against the glass and rolled down like a thousand tear drops.

"It's my daughters fourth birthday tomorrow," I began, tears already rolling down my cheeks, I didn't turn to face Alice, I couldn't do this if I had to look at her.

"That's great. What did you get her?" Alice asked, having no clue where this was heading.

"A star," I whispered, swallowing hard and looking up into the stormy sky.

"Wow, a star! What made you chose that over a Barbie?" She laughed lightly.

"So it can watch over her now, while I can't," I choked out,losing the battle against my owntears.

"Why, where is she?" She asked quietly now.

"I have no idea!"

* * *

**Let me know what you think!**

**Tori**

**x**


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